


A Walking Tour of Scotland In the Springtime

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 02:09:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14740062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Craig Garrison had even mentioned it to the group of officers he was having a drink with at the Officers' Club, that it was a pity the trip to Scotland was strictly for the purposes of doing some guerilla training for the troops stationed at that rather secluded military base.  He'd always been interested in Scotland; had read several books about the country and had often thought rather wistfully about one in particular titled, "A Walking Tour of Scotland in the Springtime", and admitted that might be something he'd enjoy doing sometime.   Now, looking out over the black waters of Loch Ness, he realized that someday he was going to have to learn to be careful what he wished for!





	A Walking Tour of Scotland In the Springtime

Lieutenant Craig Garrison sat up, suppressing a deep groan, clutching the throbbing side of his gold-blond head. He'd have used the other hand to clutch his aching ribs, but he was using that one to prop himself upright. And besides, why should his ribs get all that attention when his right knee felt just as bad, not to mention his back, not that he could have reached that spot with the parachute harness . . .

He stopped his wayward mind in midflight, pulling it sternly away from whatever flight of fancy it had decided to take. Blinking rapidly to clear his smoke-filled burning eyes, he looked around for the others. The plane had started losing altitude soon after takeoff, right after they'd passed over that stretch of mountains; the journey from the training camp in Northern Scotland somewhere west of Cannich to the Air Base closest to London should have taken only a relatively short time, but there hadn't even been enough time for Goniff and Casino to start their customary in-flight arguing, hell, not even long enough for Goniff to need his air-sickness herbs before the pilot had been screaming for them to jump, and be damned fast about it, that he couldn't hold it up much longer, and they had quickly rigged up and jumped. Usual jump order was maintained, even in the shock and confusion - Chief, Casino, Goniff.

Actor should have been next, but when he looked around for Garrison, who should have been right behind him, the Lieutenant was in the cockpit wrestling with the pilot. Actor held back. The pilot had seemed determined to go down with his plane and Garrison had had to hit him in order to pull him out of the smoke-filled cockpit, a cockpit where the equipment was sparking and making all kinds of disturbing sounds. Actor got Garrison hooked up, seeing he had no hands free as he was now clutching the pilot in his arms since there was no time to bundle the man into a parachute, and even if there had been, his being dazed would have made his chances for a solo jump not too promising. Holding the man unfortunately gave Garrison no arms left to try and control the parachute as he had to strain to keep hold of the release mechanism, so the landing was more than a little rough; they were lucky neither of them broke anything. Actor came to ground immediately thereafter, not far away. Off in the distance, some distance away, Garrison could see the black billowing smoke that showed where the plane had crashed into the mountains; he hoped no one had been on the ground in that particular spot. 

The pilot, one Carr Maddox, was now sitting up as well, looking around with ever-widening eyes, fingering his sore jaw. He slowly came to the realization that he was sitting in grass rather than in his leather console seat, that somehow he was on the ground, not in his plane. He remembered now, the Lieutenant had been yelling at him, grabbed him and hit him. His appalled glance fell on Garrison, "what the hell did you do that for??"

A voice from behind him drawled sarcastically, "oh, perhaps he thought that leaving you to die wasn't quite the gentlemanly thing to do? What, you would have preferred to burn to death? Die in the crash? Isn't that carrying pride and duty just a bit too far?" Actor thought the pilot's reaction was a little ungrateful, but put it down to shock; Garrison never figured out how the tall Italian could look so, well, together, after bailing out of an airplane, but he managed it; even his hair was in place after he'd run one hand over it, smoothing it out.

"Crash??! We lost the plane? It crashed??! OH SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, well, when airplanes go outta control and start burning and hit the ground, that's usually what happens, buddy. They didn't teach you that in pilot school? You maybe out sick that day?" came from a rough voice issuing from a rougher looking man trudging toward them limping heavily, being supported on one side by a dour looking young man with dark hair and bronzed skin.

Casino had a hangover, hadn't shaved that morning, and the rough landing in a meadow well studded with hidden rocks and thistle that had bunged up his knee hadn't helped his overall appearance; his dark hair draped over his forehead, he looked every part of the thug he was generally thought to be by outsiders. His scowl fully reflected his opinion of the way their morning was going so far.

Chief just looked resigned to the unfairness of it all, waiting for Garrison to figure out their next move; he wasn't quite as calm as he appeared, but it was a point of honor to keep his emotions under wraps, so the fact that he'd been a little shaken up by having been awakened from a light doze to being practically tossed out of an airplane was something he was focusing on keeping hidden.

Garrison took stock, him and Actor, the pilot, now Chief and Casino; he tensed, searching the horizon in each direction - one man missing.

"Anyone seen Goniff?" and frowned in concern when he got only startled headshakes from each of them as they too started looking around, thinking, hoping to see the small Englishman appear out of the shrubby growth or high grasses. Actor quickly started checking for injuries, determining Casino needed to stay put, as well as Garrison, which was of course ignored as the Lieutenant gave his usual impatient, "I'm fine!", and the men, except for Casino who WAS ordered to stay there in case Goniff came looking, to set up a yell if he did, were ordered out in a pattern to locate their missing team mate. Maddox would have preferred to be the one staying, but as he was uninjured, except for some bruises, wasn't given that choice.

They'd all come down in pretty much a line, with the added delay for the last three due to the struggle in the plane, but with the Englishman's lighter weight, he could have been blown a little off track, even though there really wasn't any wind to talk about at ground level. Well, at least they knew the direction to start looking.

It was Chief who spotted the parachute and called out his name, then yelled to the others; he didn't wait to know whether they'd heard him but, heart pounding in apprehension when there was no answering shout from the little pickpocket, ran toward that tangle of white silk and lines tangled in the shrubby trees surrounding that wide expanse of water, a lake with water so dark as to look black, the far shores not visible in any direction. The silk was solidly wrapped in the branches, the taut lines led down and out into the water where a small water-logged body lay face down more than three-quarters submerged at the end of the lines, only his head and shoulders visible and not much of those.

Chief swallowed in dread at the sight, but then heaved a sharp grunt of relief when in answer to another shout, Goniff lifted his head slightly, and looked across at him, bleary-eyed. A hoarse rasp came over the chill air, "I'm stuck, Chiefy. Something's caught round my legs, all of me from the chest down; I can't pull myself out, and the lines keep pulling me under! And Chiefy, there's something in 'ere!"

There was controlled panic in his voice and in his face; his friend could hardly blame him, the water was high enough it looked like Goniff was having to brace himself upright on both arms and keep his head tilted back at a sharply unnatural angle to keep his mouth and nose free of it, and a man could only do that for so long. The blond head was dripping wet, and it was obvious he'd been totally underwater at least once. There was blood trailing across the surface of the black water.

Chief drew his knife and started in, only to stop at a shout behind him; he turned to see the others making their way across the rough terrain.

"You don't want to go in there," Maddox yelled, "the pike in these lakes are fierce!" Chief didn't know what a pike was, but he knew Goniff was down and caught so he ignored the man.

"Say's he's caught on something, Warden. Figure I can cut him loose; can't just let him stay there! He's having a rough time keeping his face outta the water as it is, and looks like it's getting worse. Says there's something in there with him too."

Garrison nodded, "alright, be careful. If you need help, one of us will come in."

Chief paused just a moment, figuring he'd better know what he could be up against. "By the way, what the hell is a pike?"

"A very, VERY large fish; in these waters they can become Goniff's size or better sometimes, with a great many teeth and a bad disposition," Actor offered.

At that, Garrison quickly pulled his revolver, thankfully still with him. "I'm coming too. Actor, form up behind me, Maddox behind him, a few feet apart; give a yell if you see anything."

Maddox was looking at them like they were crazy. "No way I'm stepping foot in there! If it's not the pike, it's the goddamned snakes! Place has more of those than I ever ran into in Alabama!"

The icy glare and sharp reprimand from the American Army Lieutenant forced the pilot to reluctantly ease his way down the slippery side of the lake and maybe five feet into the cold water, shivering as the icy water soaked through his uniform trousers up to his knees. Actor was another few feet closer to their downed team mate, but being so much taller, wasn't getting any more wet. Garrison went out a little to the side and stood guard with his revolver at the ready, the other two kept a wary lookout, and Chief concentrated in figuring out what had Goniff trapped.

He cursed low and hard as his hands caught on something sharp, "it's barbed wire, and it's got a good hold; I'm gonna need help. Actor, can you come help hold him up so he can breathe, hold him still? Can't turn him over on his back, not til I take care of the wire; I'd rip him to pieces, just tangle him up more. He moves around, I'm likely to cut him. Be careful, it drops off right about here another three-four feet, then even more real fast. I've gotta go under to see what I'm doing. Warden, gonna need a new knife after this."

Garrison snorted, "you'll get it, Chief. Just get him out of there."

Actor moved forward, dropping from one level to another so quickly it shocked him even with Chief's warning; he got his arms around Goniff, supporting him so the Englishman could relax his arms for the first time since his landing. "Lean your head against me, give your neck a rest, while Chief is getting you free," the tall Italian instructed, and the offer was gladly accepted.

It took a few dives, Maddox watching with wide eyes as Chief would come up only to take a fast breath then go back under, the pilot shuddering at the idea of going down into that black water even once, much less again and again, but finally Chief came to the blood-streaked surface, breathing hard, "think that's got it. Maddox, get your ass in here and help Actor pull him out. I gotta watch to be sure there's nothing still digging in." Maddox didn't like it, but he'd already figured out he had no choice, so he waded over and took hold as Actor directed him, gasping as he hit the ever sharpening decline and ended up going from knee deep to waist deep on that last step, struggling to maintain his balance.

The thought had occurred to each of them, if the small man had landed just a few feet further out, his arms wouldn't have reached bottom; he'd have been pulled under by that wire and the parachute lines, drowned before anyone found him. They'd gotten him a foot or so before they felt the resistance, Goniff cried out sharply as bright new streams of blood drifted to the surface, and Chief yelled, "no, hold it there! There's gotta be another piece underneath him!"

He dove back under, was only a shape under the water when he heaved himself backwards urgently, stumbling to his feet, "pull, damn it, hurry, get him outta there now!! Get to shore, fast!!" Actor and Maddox did, at a run, not pausing to ask why, just pulling the limp sheet-white Englishman up with them, Chief following close behind, stumbling to his knee at one point before recovering to surge ahead. Garrison hadn't moved, gun at the ready to cover them if needed.

Chief yelled again, "Warden! It's coming in fast; get to shore!"

Garrison backpedaled as quickly as he could, swinging his revolver back and forth over the spot in the water where they'd been; Chief's uncharacteristic reaction had been too close to panic for him not to take him seriously. Then he saw it, only a shadow, but a large oddly-shaped shadow moving quickly and silently over the spot their pickpocket had been trapped, then speeding up, following the blood trail closer to the shore, and he was grateful he could now feel the rocks of the shore under his soaked boots. He didn't stop there, just as the men hadn't stopped on the edge of the water, but had gone a good ten-fifteen feet back, following Chief's shouted order. His hand was cramped from his tight grip on the pistol, but he wasn't about to holster it, not yet. His experience in North Africa had taught him that things that were in the water didn't always stay in the water, {"would they HAVE crocodiles or the big constrictors or something like that in Scotland??"}

"What the hell was that??!"

"I do not know, Craig; however, I can hardly believe it was a pike, not at that size and shape!" They were all shaking in reaction as well as from the cold of the water and the air now, Garrison wet to the thighs and above, Actor and Maddox to the waist or a little above, Chief and Goniff totally soaked, hair dripping into their faces. Chief was still breathing hard, looking over the lake like he wasn't any too convinced whatever was out there couldn't come up onto the shore after them. Actor was busy checking out Goniff, who was starting to catch his breath, choking and gagging as he did so from the lake water he'd swallowed. His khaki uniform was ripped and torn in dozens of places, and now that the water wasn't washing it away as fast as it appeared, the blood started to well up from the numerous nasty gashes and spread rapidly.

"Come on, let's get him back to Casino, try to get a fire going, get dried out." 

The small man had finally stopped shaking, though it had taken a long time between the adrenalin reaction, the cold and wet, the pain, shock and the downright terror. Clothes were stripped, wrung out, then put back on, there not being any better options. Strips from various pieces of clothing bound the worst of the tears and gashes on Goniff's pale skin, from his lower chest on down, and the blood had started clotting on the more shallow ones; he'd have scars from that little adventure, there was no question, and Actor knew infection was more than likely; there was no telling what had been in that water.

Maddox kept back out of everyone's way, watched the swift interaction, the lack of hesitation on anyone's part in doing what needed to be done, just like he'd seen at the lake. He had a feeling they'd done something similar many a time, not just for Goniff, perhaps for each of them. He had friends, buddies, guys he worked the same shift with day after day, drank with, played cards with, but he realized now, he'd never been part of a real team, that THIS was what a real team looked like.

"The lines from the parachute kept yanking me toward the trees, but with the wire holding me, it just kept pulling my face under water. Couldn't get the clips undone cause of the wire. Kept feeling something nudging up against me. I was all stretched out, but went under as far as I could trying to undo the harness, pry myself free, and . . .!"

The shaking started up again, and without a word, Casino shrugged out of his dry jacket to drape it across him, giving just a brief squeeze to those wiry shoulders as he did so, getting a weak smile of appreciation in return. That jacket was the only completely dry one in the bunch other than Maddox's; HE'D torn his off and left it on the shore, grabbing it on the way out, so it had stayed dry though the rest of him had gotten wet enough, and now that worthy flushed, realizing, drew his own off and draped it around Chief, who'd also been soaked head to toe. That got him a started look, and a nod of thanks.

"Ruddy 'ell, Warden, there's a body down there, or w'at was left of one, all tangled up in wire like me, but with pieces of 'im missing! And something off beyond, just moving back and forth, like it was waiting for me to stop struggling afore coming in to take a bite!"

The little pickpocket was swallowing heavily, looking like he might cast up his accounts yet again, and rubbing his head like he had the world's worst headache. Garrison knew that couldn't be though; HE already had that one, so Goniff could only have the world's second worst headache. Garrison raised his brows, looking over at the rest of the men, seeing their uneasiness growing, said soothingly, "take it easy, Goniff. I know it's easy to imagine things in a situation like that, but . . ." only to be stopped by the solemn headshake from Chief.

"He's right, Warden. Another coil of wire - a spring trap, not something just tossed away, just like what had Goniff - guy's been dead awhile, I'd say, parts of him gone, but not too long ago, maybe couple, three days. And he's right about the other too; don't know what I saw, but it was something big, it was alive, and it was waiting, you could feel it, waiting for me to give up and leave. Wasn't sure how long it was gonna wait, though, if it got the idea we were gonna be able to get him free. Started moving, coming in fast just as I cut that last piece loose."

Actor tried to pull a superior look, one of the ones he was so adept at using, but decided against it, perhaps realizing it just wasn't the right time, settling for a more honest one, one of worried consideration.

"Perhaps it was a large pike, a giant eel, though it seemed too bulky for either of those, too many moving parts from what I glimpsed. Water can sometimes play odd tricks on the eyes, though, especially water as dark as that was. Of course, that would not explain the wire traps. Scotland is rather known for its legendary creatures, and many of them water dwellers, more than in many other places. Some were supposedly active only in the water, some could travel across the land as well. Myths, of course, just stories, but probably having a base in some less fantastical reality."

He looked around uneasily, seeing their faces, the darkness beyond, and sighed, "however, aside from that, Scotland does have a few native animals that could prove dangerous, other than the poisonous snakes and the far-more poisonous spiders, perhaps feral livestock, dogs gone wild, as well as modern-day bandits who aren't too worried about being caught, not out here. It's probably best to stand guard, " looking out into the darkness now surrounding them. Somehow nothing about that little discourse reassured them.

Their fire was small, well-contained within the rocks they'd gathered; they built it up higher now, and a fire had perhaps never looked so inviting to them. The others watched as Chief shifted to sit with only one side to the fire, so his eyes could search into the darkness on either side. Uneasily the others followed suit, making sure there was no unobserved line of sight anywhere, checking the ground around them carefully, thinking of that 'poisonous snakes and the far-more poisonous spiders' spiel from Actor. Only Garrison had a gun, Chief had his knife, its edge now damaged beyond repair, but still effective if need be. Now the others pulled the larger, sturdier branches close, ready to use them if need be.

They slept in shifts, Goniff taking his turn at watch just like everyone else, without question, and to no one's amazement except Maddox, who had thought surely the little pickpocket would use his ordeal as a solid reason to just sleep. Although discounting the idea of monsters of any kind out loud, still, those who remained awake had no trouble remaining that way, their eyes ever searching the shadows, keeping watch. Even Maddox, paired with Chief, kept alert, even though he was not used to this kind of activity.

The thought came to him, that if he had to get caught in a bad situation, it could have been in far worse company than these men. He flushed in the darkness, thinking of everything that had happened in the last week.

He had met these guys when they first showed up to teach a couple of specialized courses, and the idea that a bunch of cons could teach trained soldiers anything was laughable to him and his buddies. The fact that this crew had taken a bundle off the Base cardsharks in that poker game right off the bat, that hadn't helped things any.

The courses had proven, to much disgruntlement, that cons could indeed teach trained soldiers a thing or two, even more. Garrison's easy comradery with his men, while still obviously being the one in charge, had rather annoyed some of the other officers as well as the enlisted personnel, and had been rather scoffed at. Andy Malone had tried poking at the little Cockney over some foolishness, and found he had not one pint-sized English smartass to deal with, but one pint-sized English smartass backed up by three hard-faced men with eager fists and one pissed off Lieutenant.

And when that pretty little barmaid at the pub, the one none of his friends had made inroads with, just couldn't decide which one of the four men was 'the most bonny and braw!' but kept making over them all, that was the bracer. Dennis was really pissed, "she's even making up to that peedy little roaster, Goniff!"

Well, Siofra (anglicized to 'Sophy' by the guys) had been more pleased than you'd think by Goniff's calling her Siofra, (instead of 'Sophy') even pronouncing it right, 'Sheefra', and the others following along. Said "my 'Gaida 'as a cousin by that name; it's a really pretty name for a really pretty girl."

Girl had a smile ear to ear at that. Who knew she disliked being called Sophy??! Seemed close enough to them! Well, the girl had plopped herself down on his lap and started cooing, asking if he might be looking for a steady lass, or if this 'Gaida might be his girl, getting his chuckles, saying that he didn't know he could claim 'Gaida was his girl, right enough, that she might still be making up her mind about that.

That caused Casino to tease him with "well, don't know anyone else Meghada calls 'laddie, or macushla, or ashtore, and stuff like that, or anyone else she cooks for and fusses over like she does you'," getting a knowing nod from the young redheaded barmaid, "then she IS yours, truly! Those last two names, they're not something you'd call just anyone, you know!" 

She then asked him "but what kind of a dafty lass would let such a sweet wee barra roam so far fra hame, with rascally Ned's like these to lead him astray, and other lasses to make a try for him?" and him just laughing and buying her a drink, but encouraging her to move over to the rough-talking one or the quiet one's lap, saying 'she aint dafty, just knows I like my 'ead right where it is, on my shoulders! I go fooling around, she'd 'ave it off real quick, most likely. No one better than my 'Gaida, but 'as a temper. She's a redhead too, though hers is darker. Though if I were gonna take the chance, Siofra, you'd be the one who'd be worth the risk," all with a truly charming smile.

She'd pouted sweetly, looked around at the others for confirmation. The others had assured her that Yes, that was all true, but THEY didn't have any tempery lassies waiting for them, so they'd not mind one bit if she sat in their laps. Well, except for that tall stuck-up Italian, he didn't get too involved in the whole thing, just sat back and drank his beer.

The pretty little redhead had ruffled the Englishman's hair, gave him a mock pout and a kiss on the cheek, told him "and it seems she's a most fortunate lassie; you can tell her I said so!", and moved over to Casino, with Goniff seeming just as content with that as could be.

Well, Dennis said that just proved he was a right Jessie, "just like I said. Who else'd give up a chance with a girl here, just cause you've got another girl somewhere else? And what the hell kind of name is that anyway, 'Meghada'! Sounds even sillier than 'Siofra'."

All in all, the guys at the Base were just as pleased to see Garrison's crew head out at the end of the week, though they'd given some thought to what they could give them as a 'going away, don't bother to come back' present, drinking down a bottle of bad whiskey and laughing at all the various ideas that were dumped into the pile. That had been a hell of a lot of fun, Maddox remembered, a bit glumly, remembering that night. In fact, he rather thought he'd never forget that night.

They couldn't head North, back to the Training Base, not easily; there were mountains in between them now. They started the long walk home in the morning, keeping to the side of the lake, using it as a guide, but not close, nowhere near close to the shoreline. Sometimes they'd think they heard voices, singing, someone calling - all from that direction, but even the frequently too curious, too adventurous Craig Garrison put aside any thought of getting any closer to investigate. Even when the voices turned alluringly feminine, no one was tempted, not even Casino; they just exchanged uneasy looks and plodded on.

The width of the lake seemed to vary greatly, sometimes they could see the other shore quite clearly, knew it wasn't far away; at others, the far shore disappeared entirely. Vaguely remembering the maps he'd seen of this area, Garrison knew they needed to get to the other side of that water, unless they wanted to walk halfway to England, but even at the most narrow spots no one was tempted to try and swim across.

That first cross-bridge was in too poor a condition to even try using it to cross that black expanse; it looked as if the next breeze would cause it to collapse, and indeed, as they stood and looked at it, a random board shifted and fell into the water below, causing odd ripples to gather in the area, ripples that seemed to move with cold purpose well after all logic would have said they'd long since have disappeared. No one discussed what they'd seen, just exchanged uneasy glances and trudged on, Casino and Goniff moving slower and slower, getting a hand over the rougher spots.

It took them til late afternoon to reach the narrow spot, the next cross-bridge, this one seemingly in reasonably good condition. They were careful, Garrison with his revolver drawn, Chief taking the lead, keeping his eye on the footboards, testing each one, but also watching the water below. The mists were closing in, and that only added to the uncomfortable atmosphere.

"There! W'at the ruddy 'ell is that??!" came from the slender pickpocket, pointing off in the distance. A tall thin shape, wavering upward in the fog, nothing they could make out clearly, but giving them enough incentive to hurry as fast as they could those last few feet, then on toward the dirt road they could see in the distance. They all found themselves looking back over their shoulders, and more than one heaved a sigh of relief at the steady clip-clop of horses hooves coming up.

A cautious, wary look from the old man driving the cart, an explanation along with identification from Lieutenant Garrison, and five grateful men made their way into the back, Garrison on the seat beside the ancient farmer, headed toward the nearest town of any size. While the old man admitted there were a couple of villages closer, he insisted, "do ya na gudt ta stop at t'others; no tellyphone, na doctor, naught else cept horses and carts anyhoo; Dalwhinnie's where ya needs to be goin, and tis there I was headed," so they arranged themselves in as much comfort as possible, and dozed to the rock and sway and the sound of horses' hooves.

 

As they came into Dalwhinnie, riding in the back of the farmers cart, behind that duo of plodding horses, they were almost beyond feeling anything, even relief. Almost.

Garrison expressed his sincere thanks to the old man who'd given them the ride, taken his name, offered payment, to get a shrug, "not many walk away from the Loch, not with their minds still with them and with a story to tell. Retelling yours, well, that'll get me many a dram at the pub. Speaking of which, if you're a drinking man, the distillery here, tis the best there is. The pub over there will have a sampling, and from the looks of it, you can all use it, aye, and a meal along with it."

Of course, all of that was in such a broad dialect and odd cadence, through a mouth missing a goodly number of teeth and still clenching that evil-smelling pipe that Garrison and the others only picked up on bits and pieces. Still, he urged the old man to wait for a few minutes, hurried inside the pub and came out with what had seemed to him to be an over-priced pint of whiskey supposed from that distillery, Garrison having hurriedly explained the need for a fitting reward to the pub owner, with which the old man seemed most delighted, nodding and chuckling, and with a wave he moved on down the street.

"Well, let's go in, see if we can get a place to stay, if there's a telephone to call in," and the six weary men went into the neat pub. Actor was assisting Goniff, who was hobbling more and more, his tattered bloody uniform and ashen face getting alarmed looks and quick offers of assistance from the innkeeper. Chief kept a wary watch on Casino, who was doing his own share of listing to one side. Garrison's body seemed to be cramping into a question mark.

Actor shook his head over the lot of them, "and perhaps the innkeeper can summon a doctor to tend to each of you; you're a sorry sight. And Chief, yes, I did see those cuts and scrapes you've acquired; that wire could prove a problem; we need to get you some care as well." Luckily they each had some money with them, though waterlogged and wrinkled now. Even Maddox chipped in what he had; Garrison thought he had been oddly subdued, quietly helpful on the trip after his initial reluctance to join forces with them, his seeming dismay at having been pulled out of the smoking plane. 

Yes, there were accommodations, though only two rooms opening onto each other, on the upper level. The stairs were a challenge, but they managed. Not enough beds, but trundles were brought in and extra quilts and they made do; hell, they were more than happy to make do.

The doctor was summoned, and while he was examining, frowning, shaking his head and muttering, tending cuts and scrapes, dowsing antiseptic to the accompaniment of sharp outcries and a few curses, taking some stitches in the three really deep gashes Goniff had received along with all the others, exclaiming on how close to the femoral artery that one had been, and one of the others - well, Goniff had had a near miss with that one as well. The slender Englishman had gulped as he watched the doctor stitch that one, hoping that the man would watch what he was doing as well. Casino had a momentary urge to tease about that close call, but decided against it when the doctor moved Goniff's leg further out to get to the tail end of that gash. The safecracker had swallowed heavily and shuddered at the sight.

Garrison was busy on the phone. Three calls - the training camp to let them know they were minus one plane, but still had a live pilot; he was told they were on lock-down manoeuvres and couldn't send anyone to fetch them anytime soon, but to kindly return their pilot when he got the chance, "that's a good chap!".

He called London HQ - Richards was away, along with his Aide, and no one else seemed likely to be interested in their predicament.

One last call to the Mansion, to Sergeant Rawlins, explaining what happened and where they were. 

"Yes, the Two Roses pub in Dalwhinnie. No, I haven't found a way back yet. The doctor is looking at the guys. What? Sure, here's the number." Garrison hung up the phone, looking at the handpiece with some curiosity, then shrugged, too tired to think about what he'd just been told.

He entered the room as the guys were explaining to the doctor just what had happened, to the older man's oddly shocked face, "northwest of here, you say? Long lake, water black as night, rocky shores?"

Garrison entered the conversation, easing his way painfully into an armchair at the side of the room.

"Yeah, took a long hike to get to where there was a passable cross-bridge on one of the more narrow spots; first one was coming to pieces in the wind, but the second was alright if you were really careful."

"Aye, you'll not find the cross-bridges on any map, no one wanting to encourage their use, you see, but there are still a very few of them left. Those who tried to cross in boats, in the early days, or on horseback, driving cattle, well, they found it wasn't the safest of things to be trying, so the bridges were built, to some mixed results; the bigger, more well-built ones used for cattle and carts are long gone, dismantled, too tempting, too easily tampered with from below, you know."

No, they didn't know, but they were too tired to interrupt and ask what the heck he was talking about.

"Ramshackle affairs, those that are left, dangerous deadly things to try unless you've no choice, but better than setting your boots in THAT water! Though most take the extra time to go all the way to one end or the other, pass on dry land or solid bridges near the towns. Longer around, surely, but much safer. The Loch isn't a friendly place, never has been. T'ween Nessie and the Ceasg, the Cuachag, never mind the snakes, the pike and the eels, and there's more than a few giant sturgeon in there - those can reach twenty foot or more, you know, and have rather nasty tempers, not that the pike and eels and the rest are any great treat either; well, t'wouldn't be someplace I'd be venturing! Tis said it's over seven hundred feet deep in spots, and going from shallow to near that just one step from another, even right close to the shore!"

Garrison cast a fast look at their pickpocket who was turning steadily greener and greener now. Lowering his voice, Garrison explained about the body wrapped in the barbed wire trap and the one like it that Goniff had become entangled in, and the doctor just looked grim.

"Wouldn't doubt it. Used to be it was lakeweed and fish-hooks, woven into nets that caught up a man or beast; then, when the landowners started using the wire, they'd find sections missing, and sometimes find sheep and cattle ensnared with the spring traps made of those, all underwater near the shore, overlaying the dropoffs. It's said there were more than a few folk who weren't as cautious as they might be, ended up in the traps as well, but few of those were ever found, at least, no more than a few stray bits. T'isn't so easy to find and remove the traps, not without running the risk of getting ensnared yourself since they're often placed in clusters, and many are afraid to do so, for fear of bringing the owners up onto shore and into the fields after them in revenge."

The innkeeper knocked at the door, bringing in the bottle of whiskey and glasses Garrison had ordered. "And supper will be brought up when it's ready, unless you were thinking of eating in the pub downstairs."

Garrison looked around at his bedraggled and weary men, "up here, if you don't mind. We're not a very appetizing sight for your other customers, and I don't think we're really up for socializing anyway. And, I might be expecting a call; I left the number downstairs."

And the inkeeper nodded calmly, "I'll fetch you should it come in. Angus, wil you be staying for a bite?"

"No, I'll have a glass as the Lieutenant has so kindly offered, but then I'm back to my own supper; you know how Mari gets! Liam, they've run amiss up at the Loch; best take precautions, what with their blood being spilt in that water," and the innkeeper got an alarmed look about him, his eyes widening as he looked around at all of them.

"Aye, I'll do that! Lieutenant, you and your men, don't be disturbing or opening the window once I get it secured! Don't pay attention to any strange noises and go looking either; don't go roaming around, no matter what you might hear or think you hear! Stay put in this room til morning; ring that bell," motioning to a bell pull mounted on the wall, "should you need anything; I'll come myself, don't open to any other."

Garrison watched in bewilderment as the sturdy man pulled open the window, pulled closed and locked the exterior window shutters, closed and latched the window, pulled the interior shutters tight and fastened the two latches, then dropped a cross bar over the whole thing, finally pulling a small woven wreath of herbs from the wall to hang on the upper latch, and left.

Garrison had to admit, that window was secured, right enough, though he wasn't sure what part the wreath was supposed to play! He hoped to hell they didn't have a fire; they wouldn't have any chance of getting out through there in time.

He frowned at the doctor, sipping at his whiskey, "should I ask?"

He got a calm, "no, you shouldn't, not tonight anyway, and as I told your men, not about any of the other as well. None of it is the sort of thing to be discussing in the night time when it could draw unwanted attention. Time enough tomorrow, with the sun shining; it sets better that way, though not easily even then."

He thanked them for the drink, made his way out, cautioning Garrison once again about latching and barring the door, opening it only to the innkeeper. The meal came, was hot and hearty, was wearily consumed. The men, now cleaner, fed, stretched out on whatever surfaces seemed best suited, Actor finding a quilt-padded floor better suited for his height than the beds or the trundles, and Garrison was considering doing the same when the innkeeper returned with a message, spoken through the door.

"A Sergeant Rawlins. Said there'd be transport in the late morning sometime, he did."

The Lieutenant looked around at his charges - Actor on the floor, Goniff on one of the trundles, Chief on another, Casino and Maddox each on one of the narrow beds, and realized sleep wasn't going to come tonight. Oh, there was that other pallet of quilts on the floor, but somehow he felt he needed to be on guard. He settled down in the easy chair, after moving it quietly so his back was neither to the window nor the door, still nervous enough to keep his revolver close at hand, and sipped at the whiskey in his glass, and uneasily dozed the night away til he heard movement down below as the landloard started opening up the pub, building up the fires. The dawn hadn't had any chance whatsoever of filtering its way into the room through the closed shutters.

He didn't intend to tell anyone about the odd noises he'd heard in the night, the shutters rattling as if being tried from the outside, scraping, scratching noises. He knew he tended to get odd thoughts when he went without sleep for too long; that's all it was, certainly. 

Breakfast was taken in the pub downstairs, and although none of them were moving with any grace, they made it down the narrow stairs without mishap. The landlord had managed to scrounge up a set of clothes, "belonged to my oldest boy, they did; outgrown them awhile back," for Goniff to use instead of his own torn and bloodstained ones, so they didn't look quite so disreputable a group as they might have. Casino had even foregone the pleasure of twitting the small Englishman on the fact that the landlord had specified, "grew outta them when he was twelve or so." Well, that even made sense, since the landlord was a brawny, towering man, looking more like a wrestler than a business owner.

Eggs, porridge, potato scones, baked beans, toast; only one small slice of ham each, but the rest in quantity enough to satisfy them, enough to make even Goniff smile. The bitter marmalade he wrinkled his nose at after one bite but said, "Meghada'd like this; don't like the sweeter ones, but the bitter, that she finds a treat!" He shrugged, not understanding that in the least, but proceeded to drizzle honey over the marmalade he'd spread on his toast and seemed well content with the result.

They found time for a trip to the distillery, pointed out by the old man yesterday and the innkeeper today, found the manager willing to show them around. Garrison would have purchased a bottle, but wasn't sure how long his funds, not too plentiful in the first place, would have to stretch; if their transport didn't arrive early enough, he'd be paying for another meal for the lot of them, after all. He did purchase three small shot glasses of the potent liquor, to be shared between them, Maddox being included rather to his surprise, and their smiles confirmed the old man's confident recommendation. It really was superior stuff, far better than the bottle he'd purchased at the inn, needing to be careful of his coins.

It was close to noon when the van pulled in, and a roughly dressed, burly red-headed man of maybe sixty stepped out. He stood at the doorway to the inn, looked around, and a wide smile came to his pleasant face as he approached them.

"And you'd be our lost lambs, I'm thinking! Delach Ochlan, at your service. Was told you'd come amiss, Lieutenant Garrison, was asked to gather you in." He was urged to sit at the table with them, and he agreed, eagerly.

"McFadden serves up a good meal, he does! The cottage pie is a treat, with the cullen skink as starters, if you've a fancy for fish stew."

Goniff brightened at that; he did have a liking for fish stew, but Meghada had turned an odd shade of green when he'd asked for it and got a very strange look on her face, similar in fact to the look he got on his face the first time she'd presented him with an apple pie, and he'd quickly changed his request to something else, had never asked for it again. After all, she'd quickly whisked that pie away, reading his face quite well, and replaced it with spiced scones and cream cheese, and had never offered him anything with apples again. A right knowing one, his 'Gaida was. Well, might as well enjoy it while he could! Then he thought back to yesterday, those shadows in the dark water, and he shuddered and decided he really didn't fancy anything with fish associated with it, might never fancy anything of the sort again.

"Or a stovie goes down well, with mash and neeps on the side; that's a sort of hash if you've not had it before. And he's done some wandering; his curries are something to travel aways for, though a trifle hot for some tastes. In fact, don't know I've ever tried anything here I'd not be willing to eat again. He's taken good care of you? Is there a reckoning to be taken care of? I've brought ample funds if you have need."

Garrison assured him he had enough for this meal, but ruefully added that paying that and for their rooms would probably tap him out, "and the doctor hasn't given me his tab yet, though he assured me he'd let me send him the money later if need be. I should have asked the Sergeant Major to send funds."

"Well, I'll handle the doctor, and you'll let me advance you a trifle as well," handing over a fold of bills. "Surely you want to have something in your pocket, maybe take back a few souveniers? The distillery shop. . ." and the eagerly laughing agreement told him they'd visited the distillery.

"And the marmalade is a rare treat, both bitter and sweet, and the honey is well known also - the bees feed off the heather hereabouts and it has a special richness to the taste. I'd stay away from the honey mead, though, unless you've a head like a rock; oh, lovely to drink, surely, but the hangover can last overly long and you'll truly wish to die before it's over! Acourse, nothing like as powerful as what your lassie's mother makes, but still a right wicked turn to it! The family joke is that SHE uses the honey from killer bees to brew her mead, and throws in some of the stingers as well!" nodding to Goniff, that note of familiarity getting a few raised brows and a startled blush from the Englishman.

The doctor poked his head in halfway through their meal, and although he'd already eaten, he joined them in coffee, checking on their aches and pains, making sure they took themselves to their own doctor when they returned home.

Afterwards, he urged them into the tap for a conversation, away from the locals who might pay too much attention. "It's been awhile, Ochlan. Didn't know you and the Lieutenant and his men were acquainted."

Ochlan just laughed a hearty laugh, "no, not so much me, but another of the Family. I was just the closest to coming to find her strayed lambs."

The doctor snorted, "well, the 'strayed lambs' almost didn't make it back. Came afoul of the Loch they did!"

Ochlan jerked his head toward the doctor, then back to the men, "you went down around Loch Ness??! Woosht, a nasty place that is!"

Garrison told him some of what they'd encountered, and got a solemn nod.

"Aye, they like their little traps, they do, their traps, their lures. My gran would tell me of them, though my granther always poo hoo'd the idea; said it was men, not the Other, men who'd gotten the taste for human flesh and set their traps, used the calling to pull them in, putting the blame on the Ceasg, the Cuachag and others. Though I don't know that that's any more comforting a thought! Eaten is eaten, I'd think! And hardly the more comforting with thinking it might be your next-door neighbor doing the feasting rather than one of the Others. Nessie, now, she needs no traps, but doesn't come so close to shore either, tho I'd not be using the cross-bridges; could pluck one right off from those, she could, at the deeper spots."

The men, getting a little annoyed at hearing the explanations but not understand a damned bit of it, demanded a translation. Halfway through, they regretted doing so; they'd not soon forget the stories, the descriptions and found their meal lurching just a bit in their stomachs, though it had gone down well enough.

Goniff would have nightmares, of his experience, of what he had seen, of what he had MAYBE seen; Chief was no better; he remembered that first glimpse of Goniff face down in the water, thinking him dead; he'd come too close to not getting his friend free in time, had been face to face with that body, not that there was much of a face left, and had faced that shadowy movement under the water. Yes, his nightmares would wake them for many a night after they got home, and the faintest scratching of the tree limbs against the side of the Mansion would wake all of them, especially Garrison, with his remembering those rustling shutters from the night before.

Their minds weren't eased any when Ochlan suggested, "best have one of our See'ers take a look at each of you; make sure nothing nasty has decided to hitch a ride; the Loch's known for that as well." Somehow, the way he said it didn't indicate he was talking about leeches or ticks or anything of that nature, and anyway the doctor had checked them well for all of those. His explanation of what 'hitching a ride' emcompassed didn't make them feel any more secure. Garrison gave his not-too-reluctant agreement to that, getting an odd look from Actor.

Garrison shook his head when Actor approached him later. "No, of course I don't put any credence in any of that. But look at them, Actor! Goniff is about to go up with the shade, Chief keeps looking over his shoulder like he's expecting to see something reaching out for him, and Casino has more whites to his eyes than color right now! Maddox, he's just a quivering lump! Anyone drops a spoon in the kitchen, they might just all faint! Might as well do what can be done to bring them some reassurance. We sure as hell couldn't take them across the Channel like this!"

Actor had to agree. "They've gone through a lot, and Maddox is worse than any of them, though he's suffered less damage than the others. Well, while our crew is used to dealing with hazardous conditions and unexpected occurrences, Maddox isn't, of course; and he lost an airplane too. That is not going to be pleasant to explain."

Neither of the men would admit the degree of uneasiness they themselves felt; they'd not reject any reassurance they were offered, no matter how they protested it being unnecessary.

Garrison elected not to mention those long scratches on the exterior of the wooden shutters covering the window in their adjoined rooms. When he'd let his curiousity overcome his apprehension and walked around that way at first light, he'd even considered the possibility of someone putting them there in the night to lend credence to the stories people tended to tell around here. There were no marks on the damp soil, and no disturbance of the vegetation, though, and he'd told himself the marks had probably been there for years, and what he'd heard just been the wind and his imagination.

He would have been just as glad not to see the pub owner looking at those new marks later, sighing and shaking his head.

"Lucky the warding still works, and that they were either too tired or too sensible to open the way. Could have been right nasty."

He'd get out the tall ladder as soon as they left and sand the marks away as he'd done on more than one occasion; wouldn't do to get used to seeing them there and miss any new signs, nor to leave a beacon for others to follow. He'd lived here all his life, knew not to be so foolhearty.

The van carried them to a small village, where an older woman, obviously Clan, dark red hair liberally streaked with white, sat with them over tea, taking care to talk pleasantly to each of them, touch each of them at some time in the conversation, on the forearm, on the hand. Her conversation with Goniff was longer than the others, and her smile less detached, far more genuine, that final comforting pat to his shoulder almost a motherly one, indulgence mixed with affection, before she moved away to talk with Maddox.

When she parted company with them, she'd nodded in satisfaction and told Garrison, "you're free of riders, that I can tell you. I imagine you'll each have the bad dreams; not many experience the Loch without those, but those will be of your own forming, no one else's, at least. She'll be able to help with his, certainly; with the rest of you as well, if you ask her to."

He supposed he was to find that reassuring, and he could see his men did, though Maddox just looked confused and a little dizzy. 

She grinned at the Lieutenant, "he'll not remember too much about me; he's truly an Outlander, not one of the Friends and Family, not like you and your men. It's best he not know more than he should about us. Her lad, you and the others, that doesn't matter so much, not anymore."

Garrison opened his mouth to ask, who knows what, but closed it again, determinedly; a wry smile came to the woman at the sight. Somehow she knew Garrison was thinking perhaps he'd be best off not knowing more about them as well. {"It's more than enough he'll be learning, as time goes by, I'd imagine, and it will take time before he's easy with any of it!"}

A question of whether to head to London or back to the Training Base met with unqualified demands for London, London then home, though Maddox made a token, obviously insincere protest. He hadn't been to London in a long time, wouldn't mind another look, not when he could honestly say it hadn't been his choice, just following the instructions of a superior officer. And, he wasn't so interested in answering questions about that crash, not without Garrison and his crew right there backing up his story, and he'd rather get that done someplace other than his home base. He figured his buddies would keep quiet too; losing an airplane while playing a nasty practical joke wasn't something any of them would want to lay claim to.

{"So much for giving Garrison and his crew a parting gift - a 'Walking Tour of Scotland in the Springtime'"}, he thought with a hard shudder, sincerely hoping none of these men ever figured out what had really happened, that the billowing smoke and sparks and sounds had been harmless 'smoke and mirrors'.

Tricking them into bailing out of the plane, letting them walk back to civilization as payback for them winning at poker and garnering more than their share of smiles from the barmaid just didn't seem as good an idea anymore as it had after they'd drained that bottle of whiskey the night before departure. Not after all he'd gone through with these men, seen them go through. He thought of the battering they'd all received in the jump, Garrison and Actor risking themselves to pull him from what they saw as certain death, the black waters of Loch Ness, the little Englishman trapped under the water with a body, trapped and sliced by barbed wire wrapping around him, coming close to drowning, the moving shadows in the water, in the mist, all he'd heard since, and shuddered again.

Actor smiled at him, reassuringly, "you're not the first to lose an airplane, Maddox; sometimes it cannot be helped; just relax and try to rest." Somehow that bit of kindness made Maddox feel even worse. 

So they settled on the wide seats in the van, four precious bottles of excellent whiskey carefully wrapped and bundled along with one jar of bitter marmalade and another of (despite all the warnings) honey mead. Actor had, with some trepidation, included a book that had been available in that distillery shop, one about the Loch, its history, its legends; he had a certain morbid curiosity, though he thought it might be some time before he could bring himself to read it; Garrison had just given him a look of disbelief, but had included it with the stack on the counter.

Ochlan had been cheerful enough about driving them down to London. "Haven't been there in awhile, might check in with some of the others while I'm there. Michael owes me a drink, now that I think on it; I can catch up on some of the gossip. The university can do without me for a bit."

Upon questioning, they found he was a senior professor of anthropology. Actor didn't mention he had figured the burly rough-speaking older man to be perhaps a groundskeeper or maintenance man; he took enough ribbing about his snobbish manner as it was, and this would have been well-earned. Garrison was riding in the front with the redhead now, the others in the back two rows of padded seats, and from the sounds, most were sleeping soundly. They kept their voices low.

"Your Sergeant Major, seems he's a knowing sort, and one well-inclined toward you and your men. He contacted Dr. Riley, who contacted, well, another of the Friends and Family, they called me as I was the closest, and there it was," that being the response to Garrison's question of just how Ochlan had been able to come to their rescue.

"Riley? I would have thought . . ." and that got a broad grin.

"The Dragon? Well, she wasn't about, and Riley knew what she'd want done, and without delay; he knows how to get things done properly. Been part of Theaghlach Cara, Friends and Family, back to his great-grandparents day, him and Sheila both, her maybe even further back. He and Sheila were settled in the East End til Meghada put out the call for one of our own doctors to take over in Brandonshire. Seems the man what was there royally pissed her off, never a wise thing to do; she arranged for the other one to be off and gone; never heard the story behind it, though," he admitted.

Craig Garrison found himself telling the story, and got a solemn nod of the head from the burly man seated next to him.

"Aye, well, that'd do it; right protective she is of those she cares for, and word in the Family is she thinks right fondly of him, your Englishman, sets great store by him, in fact, though I'd not known he was among the ones I was to retrieve. Though twas easy enough to recognize him from the description making its way around, though not so cheeky and full of mischief as I'd heard, but could hardly expect him to be, could you, not after all that. Tis glad I am for the chance to meet him."

Garrison looked at him puzzled, wondering why anyone would be describing his pickpocket in the first place.

The man caught that look, laughed softly and explained. "Well, interest is pretty high; it would be, of course, with her being The Dragon, you know; not like there's ever been another linked to her name. People are curious, though most pleased, naturally; we've missed her music most sorely, and it's said he's the one who gave it back to her, that she's writing again. Mo chreach! glad you all made it back, especially him! Fond of the girl, I am, well, we all are. Wouldn't like to see her pit herself against those up at the Loch, but she would have, no mistake, had it been otherwise! Likely not have survived it herself, but she'd have cleaned out a few of them before they took her down, that's for sure! Well, wouldn't have been a question to her; from what I hear, she'd follow him on the Long Road in any case, would naturally think she might as well extract a little vengence in the doing!"

Garrison couldn't even come up with words to reply to that cheerful little commentary, unsure of what he thought he was hearing, couldn't possibly be hearing right, and some he didn't even have a clue about, and more than uneasy enough not to want more of an explanation about any of it. He'd had about all the explanations he could handle for awhile. Maybe after he'd had a few good nights sleep he'd broach the subject with Dr. Riley, maybe. Then again, maybe not. Some things he was probably better off not knowing.

Carr Maddox finally made his way back to the Training Base in Scotland, staunchly repeated the story he'd given at London HQ, firmly backed up by the report given by Lieutenant Garrison and his men. He and his buddies avoided the subject of that crashed airplane, although he did recount the rather astonishing adventure over a bottle of whiskey one night at the pub (leaving out all the incriminating parts, of course).

Soifra was appalled, "and was he alright in the end, poor laddie? Ach, that Loch is nothing to be messing with, that's for sure!" Although many parts were laughed at, it was an uneasy laugh, and more than a few had unsettled dreams.

Well, the others involved had been having unsettled dreams ever since they heard about the crash, wondering if in their mischief making they might have done something that caused it, wondering if Carr or any of the others made it out alive. It was with mixed relief and trepidation that they heard the plane was a loss, but Carr and the others alive, although somewhat damaged. Their pranks, from that point on, would be a little better thought out, and not involving things that flew, or, for that matter, things on wheels. They'd learned their lesson quite well.

Two months later there was a new instructor set to arrive for a training course, and the talk was more enthusiastic than when they'd heard about Garrison's crew. Yes, she was a female and they'd not usually be all too happy about a female instructor, but this one, this was the Dragon! She had quite the reputation, and those who hadn't heard of her were quickly informed, "supposedly one of the best of the all round field agents; there's not one of the Special Forces teams that wouldn't gladly have her head out with them. But don't try getting cozy; they call her the Ice Queen for a reason. She doesn't stand for any foolishness! Guys end up in the hospital for trying!"

Well, they'd taken the course as they were instructed, and while they had learned some valuable new skills, they had the bruises to show for it. Not so bad as if they'd tried anything personal; just the usual wear and tear expected in physical training. They figured by the end of the week they'd have a lively accumulation of bruises, but would be the better off for it in the long run.

Carr and Dennis and Andy and a few of the others walked into the pub at the end of that first day to see the Dragon at a table, enjoying a drink, happily chatting with Siofra, "and they said to tell you hello; you made their time here quite pleasant."

Siofra laughed in return, "and they were a pleasure, to be sure, Miss O'Donnell," to get a wave of the hand, "no, call me Meghada; I'm not so formal as all that."

Siofra's eyes grew even brighter and she squealed, "then you're the wee barra's 'Gaida!" and Meghada actually blushed, and nodded.

"That I am! Goniff said you were one of the prettiest women he'd seen recently, and one of the nicest; I can see he was right."

"Well, he's a dear laddie, to my thinking; if you're ever of a mind to give him up, you'll let me know, you hear?" only to get a smile but a resolute shake of that red head.

"There's no chance of that, Siofra. There's no one like my Goniff, no one better. I know quite well what I have in him; I'm not so much a fool as to look elsewhere, or invite any other to tempt his eye."

Carr Maddox and the others exchanged astonished glances at that statement from the young woman.

"THAT'S the little Cockney's girl, the one he said he wouldn't cheat on??! The DRAGON??! Damn!" Dennis sputtered.

Well, when it came down to it, he probably wouldn't either, looking at those lushly rounded curves displayed a little more openly in that shirt and trousers than in the day's khaki fatigues, remembering the bruises she'd given him in the hand-to-hand earlier in the day.

Andy just looked bewildered. "I don't get it. Out of everyone - Why HIM?"

Carr just shrugged, "there's more to him than you'd think, Andy. If I'd been in his position, trapped in that cold, black as sin water with a dead body and God knows what, I wouldn't have handled it as well as he did, that's for damned sure! He may be little, but he's got guts! Never shirked after that either, even as torn up as he was; stood watch that night just like everyone else; cussed a blue streak when the doctor was sewing him up, but hell, who wouldn't've! And you'll remember, the other guys, they didn't seem like they felt he wasn't doing his share; he's just one of the team, and don't think they'd stand for anything else, not with what they get up to. Think we had the wrong end of it, bout him AND the others. Hell, Dennis is taller than any of us, Andy, you're the shortest; don't make either of you any better or worse, any more or less a man, does it? Guess it's the same with that little Englishman. And for HER to claim him like that? Well . . ."

They listened as Siofra coaxed the redhead into giving them a song or two, as Goniff had bragged on that, and she did, laughingly, using the piano over in the corner, and soon had the room joining in, and the one or two songs turned into an performance that lasted til she shook her head and pleaded her voice was going out on her, though she was still getting requests called out. The difference between the efficient, competent instructor of the day, the pleasant young woman talking to Siofra, and the warm-voiced entertainer, none of that helped with their understanding, but they shrugged it off as just one of those bewildering things that happened sometime. 

And if they were a little uncomfortable when the redhead stopped by their table later to greet Carr Maddox with a friendly nod, "Maddox, I thought I recognized your name; I was told you shared an adventure with some friends of mine; I'm pleased you made it through all right and tight. Sounds like a nasty one, for sure," adding a friendly smile, they tried not to show it.

They didn't want her to ever find out just what part they'd played in that little adventure, and even more so when a soldier decided to make a play for her as she was leaving, refused to take No for an answer, and ended upside down behind the bar, groaning, her not even getting mussed or spilling that last glass of whiskey she was taking with her. Yes, like the little Englishman had implied, she was more than a little peppery.

As she left, she wondered. Siofra was a sweetie, just like the guys had said and had been truly friendly. Maddox, well, his reaction had been a little off. She shrugged, turning her mind to the next day's lessons, {"probably just didn't like thinking about that little adventure; don't think he gets all that much excitement around here on a regular basis."}


End file.
